A.I. and the Illusion of Intelligence

What A.I. offers is an illusion of intelligence and a seduction of ease, but not the kind of deep, self-reliant wisdom that true education demands.

The push for Artificial Intelligence in K-12 education has been framed as an unstoppable tide, a technological inevitability driven by market forces and the allure of increased efficiency. Advocates argue that A.I. will streamline lesson planning, individualize learning, and enhance student engagement, making the traditional classroom obsolete. Yet, beneath these sleek promises lies a more pressing question: should we accept this transformation without scrutiny? Classical education, with its emphasis on analytical thought, meaningful teacher-student relationships, and the cultivation of wisdom, stands in refreshing contrast to the tech-mediated future being sold—yes, sold!—to educators. It is not only possible to resist this encroachment, it is necessary if we are to preserve the integrity of true learning.

Information Is Not Knowledge

To begin with, let’s be clear: information is not knowledge. It never has been; it never will be. A child fed the sum total of Wikipedia’s entries via neural implant would still know no more of virtue, of beauty, of truth, than a monk in medieval Europe with a single, tattered manuscript. The aggregation of data does not replace the act of knowing; knowing requires struggle, synthesis, the slow and sometimes painful forging of connections that a predictive text generator will never experience. The classical tradition understands this. It does not ask merely that students echo like well-trained parrots, but that they wrestle with texts, ideas, and problems. That they learn the fine art of dialectic, of shaping arguments, of discerning not just fact but meaning. What A.I. offers in the education space is an illusion of intelligence, a seduction of ease—certainly not the kind of deep, self-reliant wisdom that true education demands.

Of course, the A.I. Faithful will argue: isn’t AI just another set of tools? Didn’t we once say the same about the printing press, the calculator, the Internet? Shouldn’t we just teach students how to use AI responsibly?

A.I. Is Not ‘Just Another Tool’

To frame the discussion this way is to ignore the fundamental distinction between a tool that augments the intellect and one that supplants it. A hammer does not remove the necessity of craftsmanship. A calculator does not negate the need to understand mathematical principles. But a machine that generates text, that composes a student’s ideas, that removes the intellectual labor of writing, debating, and thinking? That is no mere augmentation. It is a fundamental restructuring of what it means to learn.

More insidiously, the creeping infiltration of A.I. into the classroom threatens the relational essence of education, the connections made between teacher and student, between student and peers, within a living community of learners. There is a reason Plato did not simply hand his students scrolls and send them on their way. Learning is, at its core, a human activity, shaped not just by content but by relationships, by the give-and-take of discussion, by the presence of a mentor who embodies wisdom, who guides not with mere information but with experience and discernment. To outsource this to a machine is not merely to change the method of education; it is to abandon its very purpose.

Yet, despite the mounting pressures to acquiesce, there remains hope. And perhaps more than hope there remains a fierce and stubborn alternative in the revival of classical education. If ever there were a pedagogical philosophy tailor-made for an era drowning in data yet starved of wisdom, it is this: its emphasis on the liberal arts, on rhetoric, on logic, on the deep and contemplative reading of great texts, provides not just a counterweight but an antidote to the passivity encouraged by A.I.-driven “learning solutions.” The student who has been trained in the classical tradition does not simply consume information; he interrogates it, challenges it, molds it into something meaningful. He does not merely pass tests; he develops judgment, the ability to discern between truth and falsehood, between knowledge and noise.

Education Is Not Efficient

And so, educators in this space must not feel compelled to capitulate to the latest gadget, the newest adaptive learning algorithm, the promise of “efficiency.” Education has never been efficient. It has always been slow, deliberate, a laborious and deeply human endeavor. To embrace the inevitability of A.I. in the classroom is not to advance education, but to surrender it, to trade the living intellect for a simulated one, to trade the pursuit of wisdom for the regurgitation of curated outputs. It is, in short, to give up on what makes us human in the first place.

Resist the inevitability. Insist upon the human. The student who does the hard work of the intellect, who is not coddled by the conveniences of the age, will not only emerge educated—he will emerge wise. And wisdom, the one thing that no AI will ever possess, remains the ultimate aim of education.

Michael S. Rose, a leader in the classical education movement, is author of The Art of Being Human (Angelico), Ugly As Sin and other books. His articles have appeared in dozens of publications including The Wall Street Journal, Epoch Times, New York Newsday, National Review, and The Dallas Morning News.